Doctor Bucky
by Gypsy Dreamcatcher
Summary: You get injured while on a mission, and Bucky is determined to take care of you.


Walking into the main floor of the Avengers tower, you held your breath and used the remainder of your strength to hide your limp. The mission you had been on had been tough, and you'd taken a beating. All you wanted to do now was fall face-first onto your bed. You were almost home free - no medbay for you - when a voice stopped you.

"Y/N!" You turned at the sound of your name, hand braced on your bedroom door, and sighed. Bucky jogged down the hall and stopped in front of you. "Hey, how was your mission? Everything go okay?"

You loved Bucky. He was your best friend, and his concern was very sweet. But one wrong move, and overprotective Doctor Bucky would ensure your nap would have to wait. Forcing a smile you replied, "It went well; we gathered the intel no problem. The new recruits are learning pretty quick, too." You shifted your weight to fully face him and winced at the weight it put on your knee. _Damn_.

Bucky immediately noticed your discomfort and scanned your body for any signs of injury. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the blood stain on the left knee of your pants. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at you. "It went well, huh?"

Feeling like a scolded child, you rolled your eyes at him. "It's nothing, Buck. I'll deal with it after I sleep."

"Y/N, I'm serious. There's blood on your pants, you need to go to the medbay."

"It's fine. I can take care of myself," you huff and reach for your door again.

Bucky's frown deepens as he sees you wince again. "If it's nothing, why are you wincing?"

Your exhaustion making you irritable, you snapped, "I'm not! Leave it alone, Barnes!"

"If you're fine," he snapped back, "I want you to walk into that room without limping."

You groaned internally knowing that wasn't possible. Pain be damned, you refused to be babied. Taking a deep breath, you opened your door and slowly walked toward your bed. You made it only a few steps before you unintentionally whimpered. Before you could take another step, Bucky scooped you up in his arms and carried you over to your bed. He set you down and immediately began removing your boots.

"I'm a grown adult, Barnes, I can take off my own shoes."

Bucky didn't look up from unlacing your boot and replied, "I'm sure you can, Y/N, but that doesn't mean I can't help you."

Huffing, you jerked at the shoelaces of your other boot until they were both off and tossed towards your closet. He stood up and pointed a finger at you. "Don't move, I'll be right back."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huffed again and waited for him to get back. When your bedroom door shut, you sighed and put a hand gently on your left knee. Your poor body felt so battered. You'd been shoved off of a raised platform during one of your fights and bit it on a stretch of gravel. Your right hand was swollen and your elbow bruised. You'd bashed your right hip so hard it had bruised front and back, and your left knee was swollen and bruised heavily. Not to mention both hip and knee were scraped and bloody.

You looked up as Bucky re-entered your room holding a pair of his house shoes in his hand. You raised one eyebrow at him as he set them on the floor in front of you. "I know they're huge," he placated, "but they're probably more comfortable than your combat boots, right?" You nodded, knowing he was right - _why is he always right?_ \- and held out your right foot to him. "Nope, not yet, first we gotta get rid of those pants and clean your knee."

You smirked up at him, "If you wanted to get into my pants, you should've just said so." Bucky chuckled as you stood up slowly from the bed and began undoing your pants. You'd been friends long enough that it didn't really phase you to drop your pants in front of him. You'd had to patch each other up after fights enough to have seen basically everything. You hissed as the fabric of your pants stuck to your bloodied knee causing Bucky to reach out to help you.

Slapping his hand away you snap, "I can take off my own damn pants." You jerked the pant leg off and threw the pants in the same direction you'd discarded your boots. Slipping on Bucky's gargantuan house shoes you missed him pulling out a small first aid kit from under your bed. He set it beside you, and you groaned. "Bucky, come on. I'm fine, honest. Just let me sleep."

Ignoring your whining, he dug through the kit until he'd found what he was looking for: alcohol swabs. You glared at him, anger back full force. "Over my dead body," you ground out through a clenched jaw. "Those swabs are from hell itself and aren't going anywhere near me."

Bucky rolled his eyes at you again. "Y/N, come on. Your knee needs to get clean, and this is the easiest way to do it. They aren't _that_ bad."

"Like hell they aren't! You might as well set my knee on fire, it'd have the same effect!"

"Y/N, use the swabs."

"No."

"You're being childish."

"They cause nerve damage."

"Don't be a baby." That did it. Your stubborn streak was a mile wide, but you'd be damned if anyone could call you a baby. You snarled at him and grabbed an alcohol swab, tearing the wrapping open with your teeth. Gently dabbing the swab at your busted knee, you hiss at the burn and feel tears begin to gather in the corners of your eyes.

"Y/N," Bucky said gently, "you've gotta scrub it to get the dirt out."

You knew he was right, but _damn_ it hurt so bad. You tried to scrub at the dirt, but tears quickly blinded you. You thrust the swab out in Bucky's direction and look at the ground, "I can't do it."

Wordlessly, Bucky takes the swab from you and kneels down in front of you. He looks at you with apology in his eyes before he goes to work on your knee. You stiffen and let a small screech pass through your clenched teeth. Your tears come in earnest now, and your knee feels like it's been set on fire spreading through every nerve ended from hip to foot. You get a slight reprieve before he goes after your hip. When he's finished, Bucky tosses the swabs in the trash bin by your bathroom then kneels in front of you again. He gently wipes at the tears running down your cheeks and smiles at you.

"It's over, no more alcohol swabs from hell. You did good."

You nod at him, body sagging from the strain it'd been under in the last few hours. You watched him quietly as he wrapped and bandaged your knee and hip. When he finished, he sat back on his haunches and gave you a small smile.

"You know I'm going to be shoving Motrin down your throat for the next few weeks, right?"

You return his smile and roll your eyes, "Thank you for taking care of me, Doctor Bucky."

He kissed your forehead and stood to go search for Motrin. "Anything for you, Y/N."


End file.
